


Former Lives

by Ricochet713



Series: Tumblr Prompt Ficlets [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Boring Team Meetings, Fluff, Hanzo has many feels, I did not expect to get behind this ship as much as I have, Jack being an Ass to Reaper, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Recall, Prompt Fic, Rare Pairings, Redeemed!Reaper, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricochet713/pseuds/Ricochet713
Summary: Hanzo and Gabriel have something surprising in common: they are both trying to come to terms with the loss of their former lives, and the establishment of their new ones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was prompted by thunder-thighs-reyes on tumblr, and is my first shot at a rare-pair, but I really enjoyed writing it and loved how it turned out. It's short and simple but I hope you like it!

Hanzo had never been fond of Soldier 76’s team meetings. They reminded him too much of the life he used to know, the life that had abused and oppressed him for so many years, that he had only recently had the courage to escape; but he took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one. Across from him, smoke trickling from cracks in the bone-white mask, Reaper was leaning back in his seat, arms folded across his wide chest. He seemed to insist on wearing his old Talon attire – gauntlets and all – even despite 76’s displeasure. Probably  _because_  of his displeasure, Hanzo guessed. The thought nearly made him smirk; the faintest of twitches at the corner of his lips must have given it away, as Reaper tilted his head slightly, hollow owl-eyes focused on him.

76 cleared his throat.

“As I was saying,” he growled, his voice husky even without the visor and mask he usually wore, “now is the best time to execute a counter-attack. Talon has lost its best fighters – they’ll be drastically weakened, still reeling from their defeat. If we swoop in now, we can clean the rest of them out.”

“We could,” rasped Reaper, “if we wanted to completely waste our time and resources.”

76’s gaze shot to him, narrowing. “I should’ve known you’d have a problem with this. Fine then – why, exactly, would it be such a waste?”

“Because Talon  _isn’t_  our biggest threat.” Reaper leaned forward, arms resting on the glass table. “You said so yourself – they’re weakened. There’s not much they can do to Overwatch now. No, the  _real_ threat is the  group Talon  _worked for_.”

There were soft mutterings around the table. Hanzo remained silent, watching Reaper carefully. In contrast, 76 rolled his eyes and gave a loud sigh.

“Oh, really? You sure this ain’t some ploy to keep you’re old buddies safe?”

Even from across the table, Hanzo saw Reaper bristle. The smoke seeping out from his mask thickened.

“Talon aren’t my  _buddies_. They never were. You think I’m loyal to the people who tried to turn me into a monster?”

“I don’t know, Reaper. Are you?”

“You tell me,  _Jack_.”

The sound of swift tapping against glass interrupted them, diverting their attention away from the argument. Hanzo was glad he’d had practice at holding his own under the gaze of men who were more powerful than himself, but even that nearly failed to prepare him for the gazes of both 76 and Reaper.

“I agree with Reaper’s strategy,” he said, dredging up his most authoritative tone – it was bitter on his tongue. “Talon is not our biggest threat at this point in time. If the organisation running Talon is the same one that tried to infiltrate the Shimada Clan, we must focus our forces on finding and eliminating them.”

76’s greyed eyebrows shot up; even Reaper seemed a little surprise, not that it was obvious behind the mask. In recent years, since being reunited with his brother, Hanzo had become skilled at reading body language.

“Oh.” 76 blinked, looking a little sheepish. “Well, do we even know anything about this organisation? Where their headquarters are? Their numbers? Who leads them?”

“Not yet,” Reaper’s tone betrayed none of his previous surprise, “but I know who to ask: an old friend looking to form a new alliance.

76 didn’t look thrilled at that, but without an alternative, he didn’t have much of a say on the matter. “Fine. Contact your ‘friend’ and see what they can find out. If it’s a dead-end, we go back to my plan. You’ve got three days.”

With that, the meeting was over. As the other agents filed out of the room, Hanzo lingered, waiting for Reaper; there were questions he needed to get off his chest. Before the mercenary could leave, however, 76 caught him, and a heated exchange too quiet for Hanzo to hear passed between them. Then 76 shouldered roughly past him, leaving Hanzo and Reaper alone in the room. For a long moment, Reaper was silent, and Hanzo began to wonder if he was aware of his presence, then he appeared to shake himself, straighten, and turned towards him.

“Still here?” he hummed mechanically.

“I was waiting for you,” Hanzo answered, making his way around the long table, hesitating as he drew closer to the cloaked figure.

“Hmm.” Reaper looked away from him, out the window to the rolling seas as they were bathed in amber light. “Thanks for having my back, before.”

Hanzo took a few steps closer. “No need. I meant what I said – if there is an organisation out there more powerful than even Talon, it must be stopped. Then any forces beneath them will be brought to their knees.”

“If only Jack could see it that way.” A huff. “He never had the most tactical mind.”

“Yet he was made Strike Commander?”

Reaper flinched – still a sore point, and Hanzo immediately regretted bringing it up.

“He wasn’t such an ass back then – at least, not to most people. Had this pretty-boy charm that made everyone like him. Not so much these days.”

“Did  _you_  find him to be… likeable?”

He gave a rough chuckle. “He wasn’t really my type.”

Crossing the last few feet between them, Hanzo brushed his shoulder against Reaper’s arm, tilting his head towards the door.

“Come. I want to see the sunset without a window in the way.”

After slinking their way through the mess hall – which was far easier for Reaper than it was for Hanzo – they found a balcony that was unoccupied while still offering an uninhibited view of the horizon; a swollen, pink-ish sun rolled sluggishly towards the waves, bathing them and the sheer cliffs of the island in a vibrant gold. Since he had abandoned his life as head of the Shimada Clan, Hanzo had seen many incredible sunsets, but this he counted amongst the very best. He glanced over at his companion, wanting to see the pale mask washed in gold and rose pink, and was surprised to see that the mask had been removed.

To see Gabriel’s face was a rare thing, even for Hanzo, and every time it left him breathless. There were scars there – countless in number – and an assorted of burns, and in places the nanites that controlled his body had patched his skin with grey instead of brown, but Hanzo found him to be stunningly beautiful nonetheless.

“Sorry,” Gabriel sighed, his voice no longer distorted by the mask. “Forget how ugly I must look these days.”

He made to replace the mask, but Hanzo caught his arm, held it steady.

“No,” he said quickly, “leave it off.”

Gabriel glanced across and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

He released Gabriel’s arm and was pleased to see him lower it, the mask resting at his side. Hanzo continued to study him, the flecks of grey in his short hair and beard, the rich, dark colour of his eyes, the fullness of his scratched lips…

“You’re staring.” Gabriel sounded amused.

“I know,” grinned Hanzo. “I enjoy looking at you.”

“You do, huh?”

“Very much.” His grin widened when Gabriel leant across to bump their shoulders together fondly. “Say, Reaper…”

“You know you can call me Gabe, remember?”

“Right, Gabe. You mentioned before that Jack wasn’t your type, yes?” He looked up to see Gabriel nod, frowning thoughtfully at the ocean below them. “What  _is_  your type?”

Gabriel’s lips curled up into a smirk, and his warm gaze flicked across to him, nearly stopping Hanzo’s heart.

“Guess you could say I’m fond of the stoic loner-type. The kind of guy who’s done his hard years and is ready for a bit of freedom, bit of time to make his own choices.”

“I see.” Hanzo blinked, meeting his eyes for a moment, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Well, it is a shame there’s no one like that here at the Watchpoint.”

There was a heartbeat’s pause, then Gabriel laughed – an unfamiliar but wholly welcome sound, rough from neglect. Before Hanzo could recollect himself from the surprise and wonder of it, he was caught off-guard yet again when Gabriel swooped down to press his lips against Hanzo’s cheek.

Hours later, his blush was still horrendously apparent, and the excuse of wind-burn seemed less and less convincing.


End file.
